


Not Even a Handful

by chocolatetigerfics



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Micropenis, Size Kink, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatetigerfics/pseuds/chocolatetigerfics
Summary: Noctis doesn't like it when Gladio calls his dick puny. Because it is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [umakoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo) and [The Literator](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/) for beta-reading.

Noctis knows that Gladio doesn't mean anything by it. Puny like yours, haha. He says worse things to Prompto for less, but. But. The thing is Noctis has seen Prompto's dick in locker room, and it's not small. It's not like porn star big or anything. But not small. Not _puny_ , unlike Noctis's.

“What’s the matter with you?” Gladio asks that evening, while Ignis and Prompto are still down at the diner, playing pinball. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t,” protests Noctis, rolling over so he can pretend to go to sleep.

Gladio’s never been anything if not persistent. “Come on,” he says, grabbing Noctis’s shoulder and turning him around. “If you got a bug up your ass, we gotta deal with it. I don’t want this thing to make us less effective in battle.”

“That’s all you ever care about,” says Noctis, though he means to say _it’s nothing, piss off_. “But you don’t care about it enough to not run your mouth.”

“I knew it!” Instead of looking chastised, Gladio grins and hefts Noctis up to a seated position like he’s a feather. “Alright, princess, let it all out so we can sort our feelings.”

“Don’t be a such a dick.” Noctis wrenches away from him and swings his feet over the bed. “Just ‘cause yours is a big as a hammer doesn’t mean you should make fun of other people.”

“What?”

This is why Noctis doesn’t like to blab too much. He says things he really shouldn’t be saying.

“Is this about what I said when you caught that tiny fish?” asks Gladio.

Noctis bites his lip.

“Oh, come on,” says Gladio, throwing up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just guy talk.”

“Then it shouldn’t be,” says Noctis. He’s not a good actor, so there’s no point in pretending it doesn’t bother him now when he knows he’ll resent Gladio forever about it until. . . until Gladio stops being such an asshole. “Guys can’t help it if they’re small.”

“But what guy is, really?” dismisses Gladio. “Most dicks are around the same size, seriously.”

“Yours isn’t,” says Noctis, which he probably wouldn’t be able to force out if the light in the trailer wasn’t so dim.

“I guess not, but I’m bigger than most guys everywhere.” Gladio shrugs, as if he’s not full of himself about it, but the pride in his voice gives him away. “Noct, don’t feel bad if yours is smaller than mine. You’re an average-sized guy; probably better if you compare yourself to Prompto.”

“Oh, shut up,” says Noctis, standing up. “You don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get unless you’ve got a micro-dick or something?” Gladio says it because he obviously thinks the entire thing is stupid, but he’s looking straight at Noctis.

And Noctis has always had an expressive face to go with pale skin that blushes too easily. He should probably look away and laugh or something, but his anger’s beating down his shame, for once.

“Noct, _do_ you?”

Noctis doesn’t deny it right away, which is as good as answering. It’s enough that Gladio’s eyes widen a second before he rears back. Which in turns drains the rage out of Noctis’s bones, and he’s left with nothing but shame. He pushes at Gladio’s naked chest, then warps to the side when Gladio tries to grab him, heading for the door. Gladio doesn’t try to go after him, so Noctis doesn’t have to worry about how big his strides are.

If he can just get to wherever Prompto and Ignis are, then Gladio will just drop it. Won’t he?

But he doesn’t want to want to talk to Prompto and Ignis, not when he’s damned near tears, so he goes in the opposite direction of the diner, sparing only a thought for how far down the horizon the sun is. He only needs a couple of minutes to gather himself, and he can take care of the smaller daemons that infest the roads near city lights.

“Noct!” 

Noctis runs, hoping that Gladio isn’t shouting loudly enough to draw Prompto and Ignis’ attention. His step wavers when he hits sandy gravel, and it gives Gladio enough time to grab his wrist. Noctis warps again, keeps running even when Gladio’s frustrated growl hits him, certain that he can make it to a nearby Haven on his own. Gladio can tell Prompto and Ignis whatever he wants while Noctis takes a few hours to just. . . get a hold of himself.

“Noctis, I’m _sorry!_ ” Gladio yells, but Noctis knows he doesn’t mean it. “Damn it!”

The last few sunrays of the day melt away, and Noctis doesn’t waste a second turning on his flashlight. Perhaps that’s what draws the daemons to him even though he’s only a handful of yards away from the outpost, though it’s only a few of those sickly goblins armed with sharp, short blades. Weak enough to give Noctis and outlet for his frustrations. He warps in front of the one farthest from him and stabs the Engine Blade through its throat, warps to the next target before its corpse hits the ground and decapitates it, then appears before the one going after Gladio and uses a pair of daggers and jams it where the thing’s kidneys would be, if it has kidneys.

“Don’t ever think I’m lesser for this,” Noctis says, staring up at Gladio as the daemon vanishes in toxic, purplish cloud.

“Noct, you’re my king,” says Gladio. “That’s true no matter the size of any part of you. Now let’s go back before something bigger comes along.”

He’s ended the terrible confession in the best terms he can hope for, so Noctis nods and follows Gladio, praying for the strength he’ll need to put up with the upcoming barrage of teasing. Chances are he won’t get enemies weak enough to fluff his confidence every time Gladio gets obnoxious.

But Gladio doesn’t get obnoxious at all after that. Not about Noctis’ dick, or about their sparring, or about their mission. He focuses all his teasing and playful shoves at Prompto, and Noctis can’t believe he’s the only one who notices. He can’t believe that Prompto takes it all in stride, as if getting picked up and dropped on the front seat of the Regalia every time Gladio gets impatient is funny (Gladio used to do it with Noctis, and he has to admit it’d been weirdly fun to be thrown over Gladio’s shoulder).

Noctis holds his tongue about it and even brushes off a gentle query from Ignis on the way to Lestallum. Teasing the crown prince isn’t one of the Shield’s duties, and Noctis will be damned before he begs for attention from someone who’ll reject him for something that he can’t help. So he goes on as before, teaming up with Gladio to deliver massive blows during battle, and treasuring the resulting triumphant fist-bumps. It’s the only time Gladio touches him anymore outside of training and sparring.

What hurts the most is that Gladio’s praises don’t mean anything now that there’s no teasing to compare them to. Gladio still offers a satisfied “ _Nice_ ” every time Noctis reels in a big fish, but now he never says anything when Noctis gets something too teeny to cook or sell. Noctis still gets his hair ruffled if he does well in a spar against Gladio, but he barely gets a disappointed snort when he slacks off and lets Gladio pin him down. He makes sure to whine extra hard whenever they camp, and Gladio pretends not to hear him.

Still, Noctis deals with it pretty well. If there’s one thing he’s better at than Gladio, it’s passive-aggressiveness. He would’ve gone on pretending everything was in order until the Astrals descended from heaven. . . and then Gladio crossed the one line Noctis had not prepared for.

“Why don’t you wake up early tomorrow?” Gladio asks Prompto one evening as they sit around the fire. “It’s about time I taught you a thing or two about close-range combat.”

“No,” says Noctis.

Prompto shoots him a wounded look, and Noctis’ breath stutters for an instant, then he squares his shoulders. It’s all Gladio’s fault anyway because had he not spent the last couple of weeks ignoring Noctis, then Noctis would be grateful to be rid of him for a few mornings.

“Why the hell not?” demands Gladio.

“Hey, it’s n-not a big deal,” says Prompto.

But Noctis can tell that Prompto is hurt. He has to bite back an apology before glaring at Gladio.

“There are many hours in a day,” interjects Ignis, thankfully, because Noctis can’t think of a single protest that doesn’t make him sound intensely bratty. “I’m sure you three can come up with a training schedule that satisfies everyone’s needs.”

Maybe they could have if Noctis had not thrown a mini-fit, but Prompto’s gotten the message that Noctis doesn’t want Gladio sparring with him. He’s gotten the message that maybe Noctis doesn’t want Gladio spending so much time with him at all, so he starts keeping his distance, and stops responding to Gladio’s playful teasing. Good. Noctis is not going to say it out loud because he’s not quite that much of an asshole, but _good_. Gladio can’t replace him anymore than Noctis can replace his own dick.

Still, there’s no reason to make Prompto feel bad about it. Noctis makes sure to indulge him more often the following days. Every pic Prompto asks for, he gets, even if they have to take a stupid detour for it. Noctis makes sure to suggest that Ignis cook something Prompto loves at every campsite. And if Prompto wants to train. . . well, Gladio isn’t the only one in the group who’s a good fighter, no matter how much bigger and stronger he might think he is.

Noctis would’ve gone on like that indefinitely, but one evening Gladio corners him at a random outpost. He’d waited until Gladio had gone off to the bathroom and then stepped out with some excuse about stargazing, which had earned him a funny look from Ignis, but then he’d promised not to leave the safety of the outpost’s streetlights. Prompto had not said a single thing, and Noctis is not so stupid and self-absorbed that he doesn’t understand what that means. His friends realize that something’s not right, and they’re too sick of him to care much if he goes off on his own.

Not that Noctis blames them. He stares up to the night’s sky, trying to look for comfort in the stars, but the wind is chilly and he wants to go back inside and eat a truckload of fries drenched in cheese. But then he’d have to sit with his friends and endure tense, strangely divided banter. He can’t believe that he might have ruined the one aspect of his life that isn’t anxiety and duties over some stupid dick joke.

Gladio’s footsteps reach him before his fist wraps itself around the collar of Noctis’s black shirt, but Noctis barely has the energy to glare up at him. He knows he ought to apologize, to Prompto especially, but Gladio’s stupid face and those awful muscles of his always make Noctis tense up for fights he knows he can’t win.

“What the hell is wrong with you lately?” Gladio demands, grabbing Noctis by the collar and crowding him against the back wall of the diner where Prompto and Ignis and waiting for them. “You don’t want anything to do with me now, message fucking received, but now you’re wandering out on your own in the middle of the night? Being a shit to Prompto for no reason isn’t enough?”

“I’m not being shitty to Prompto,” says Noctis, ignoring the bit about being out on his own. “You’re just jealous because he’d rather spend time with me.”

Gladio growls, tightens his grip on Noctis’ collar, and Noctis’s heart throbs in his chest as Gladio shakes him. “Don’t pretend you’re stupider than you really are; you know _exactly_ what you’re doing.”

“Oh, shut up, like you care that much,” says Noctis, discarding a thought to warp away. “You could’ve kept talking to him, but you decided to ignore him when I said something about it.”

Gladio lets go of him with a growl, and Noctis pretends he’s not disappointed. “I’m just trying to make you happy,” he says, dragging his hands through his hair. “I want things to go back to the way they were before. . .”

“Before what?” demands Noctis, heart pounding because this is it, they’re going to talk about it and get it all out in the open. He doesn’t even care that any random passerby might hear that the Crown Prince of Lucis has an itsy-bitsy dick, not enough to shy away from the conversation.

“I don’t even know, alright,” admits Gladio. “Can we just not drag Prompto into this shit? He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Whatever, it’s not like I own him,” says Noctis, deflated. Gladio can’t even make himself bring it up. “Technically, I own _you_.”

Gladio stares at him. “No, you don’t.”

“I’m your _king_.”

“You’re my king only because I accept you,” says Gladio.

“And what would make you not accept me?”

“Not your literal dick,” says Gladio, just when Noctis thinks that the subject is buried under shame and propriety. “But go ahead and keep being a massive cock about it, and you may have to find yourself another Shield to own.”

Noctis stops breathing for a second, but then he smirks because if he was born to be the king and can’t contemplate being anything else, than that must be doubly so for Gladio. “As if. Where would you go and what would you do? What would you tell your family? I can’t serve Noctis because his dick is too small?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Noct, I don’t care about your dick.” Gladio’s looking at him like he’s a dumb kid, and Noctis has to restrain himself from warping to punch him in his stupid perfect nose. “Look, even if it is a little small, some girls like it that way, and it’s what you do with it that counts anyway.”

“Stop talking like you know about it. You _don’t_.”

“Fine, then.” Gladio throws up his hands in defeat. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me your dick, Noct.” Gladio advances on him and Noctis takes a step back. “It better be the size of a freaking walnut, and maybe this fight might be slightly less stupid.”

They’re standing so close together now that Noctis can feel the heat coming off Gladio’s muscles. He’s less scared than he should be, all things considered, but he still can’t just _show_ Gladio. So he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Gladio’s eyes widen, then narrow. “Really?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s where we are now?”

“What, like you have something to be ashamed of?”

“Fine, your Highness.” Gladio bows. “I’ll show you my dick, which like every part of me, is at your service.”

Noctis is pretty sure that he’s watched a few pornos with painfully similar scenarios, and this would be the point where he would say something flirty and clever, but he just stares up at Gladio dumbly, doing his best to keep his scowl from faltering.

“But not here,” says Gladio, mouth still twisted in an annoyed line, and Noctis has to fight himself not let out a stupid, disappointed noise. “Let’s go back to the caravan.”

Noctis hasn’t followed Gladio so eagerly since. . . probably never, since Gladio means training and he’s a lazy shit. He wishes Gladio’s strides were longer for the first time, and sighs when they reach the caravan, barely remembering to lock the door behind them.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done for you,” Gladio mumbles without turning around. His arms move like he’s unbuttoning his pants before turning around.

Noctis swallows.

Gladio turns around as he pushes his jeans and underwear down his hips, letting out a tired sigh. Noctis has no idea what his face might look like because he’s focused on Gladio’s groin like an eagle.

“Um. . .”

“See?” Gladio waves his hand in front of his limp cock. “It’s what? An inch or two bigger than most? I’m way past the age that it give me airs.”

“Can I touch it?” Noctis finally glances up at Gladio, and he smirks. It looks like someone dropped an anvil on his face. “Can I?” he asks, just to see if he can make that look worse.

Gladio’s hand moves in front of his groin, as though he means to shield his dick (fuck it hangs down like to the upper part of his thigh and Gladio’s legs go on _forever_ ). Then Gladio huffs and Noctis can picture his chest puffing up with air.

“I should make you wash your damned hands first, but _fine_ ,” says Gladio.

“‘Kay, sit on the bed,” says Noctis.

It’s funny to see Gladio awkwardly take a couple of steps back with his jeans halfway down his thighs, funny enough that it chases away whatever trace of nervousness Noctis had left in him in. “Just take off your pants,” he says, as Gladio stumbles onto the bed, his breath stuttering out in a gasp as Noctis falls to his knees.

“Noct --”

He’s never ever rendered Gladio speechless, but it’s like he choked the air out of him just by laying a hand on his inner thigh. The dick in front of him is growing pinker. Noctis licks his lips and pets the thick, dark thatch of hair just above it. It’s already as wide as three fingers, and supposedly they get even bigger when they’re hard. Noctis wouldn’t know.

“Look, I’m not gonna be able to just sit here and not react,” says Gladio.

“I know,” says Noctis, smiling and lifting his hand and reaching for Gladio’s pants. “Come on, I said take these off.”

He has to curl his hands into fists to keep himself from getting in the way, and doesn’t waste an instant to slide between Gladio’s knees when the pants are gone. Gladio hesitates, then spreads his legs wider, letting Noctis scoot a little closer. The balls and pubic hair don’t attract Noctis’s attention much, as they don’t look like anything Noctis isn’t used to, but he leans close enough to smell the musk coming off Gladio’s groin, and it should be disgusting considering they’ve been out running and hunting all day, but somehow it isn’t. He spots a fat vein running on the top part, a little to the side, and runs the tip of his finger over it.

Gladio grunts and Noctis wants to look up, but he’s caught staring at the tip of Gladio’s massive cock, at the uncut head looking smooth and flushed. Even the slit in the center is wider than expected. On a whim, Noctis rubs his nose against the cockhead, Gladio’s musk suddenly so strong that he can _taste_ it.

So he does. He licks the tip, pressing his tongue on it hard, as if it was a lollipop. Gladio lets out a broken moan, so he wraps his lips around it, ready to imitate some of the porn vids he’s managed to watch over the years. The moment the cockhead reaches the back of his mouth, though, he coughs and has to back off.

“Hey, slow down,” says Gladio, voice breathy.

Noctis has never ever made him breathy, so he pauses, and looks up when Gladio palms his cheek.

“Put as much in your mouth as you’re comfortable with, then use your hands for the rest.”

That’s not the way it goes in porn, but the way Gladio’s looking down make Noctis wants to comply, so he wraps his lips around Gladio’s cockhead, laying a hand on his thigh. Gladio’s muscular thigh contracts, prompting Noctis to rub his tongue against Gladio’s slit. A dollop of bitter fluid almost makes him draw back, but Gladio lets out a deep groan that goes straight to Noctis’s own, short little cock and makes it throb. He tries to take more of Gladio’s cock, slowly so he doesn’t end up embarrassing himself again.

“That’s it, Noct,” breathes Gladio, dipping a hand into Noctis’s hair. “You’re doing so _good_.”

Noctis preens and quickly goes back over Gladio’s simple instructions. His hands for the parts he can’t fit in his mouth. . . though it should be possible to bury his face in Gladio’s groin, and Noctis will figure it out. Just not right then, so he wraps his hand around the base of Gladio’s cock, lightly pulling at the prickly hair as he soothes the underside with the pad of his thumb.

“Fuck,” Gladio moans, his grip on Noctis’s haid tightening. “Like that. Bob your head now.”

Noctis doesn’t mean to whimper, but it just comes out. He doesn’t want to draw back; he wants to take in as much as possible. He retreats a bit, hallowing his cheeks in a reflexive attempt to take some of Gladio back with him.

The next noise that comes out of Gladio’s mouth is not entirely pleased. “Watch your teeth, Highness,” he says, rubbing Noctis’s jawline. “Cover them with your lips like. . . yeah like that. You’re a fucking natural, Noct.”

That’s not. . . a king probably shouldn’t be a natural at cocksucking, but Gladio sounds like he’s dying and over the moon all at the same time, and Noctis has suspected he doesn’t have it in him to be much of a king anyway, never mind the prophecy. So he doubles his efforts, fondling Gladio’s balls with one hand and lightly squeezing the base of his dick with the other. Gladio groans and Noctis wants to make him feel better, wants to hear more praises, so he mentally flips through all the porn he’s ever watched, looking for ideas. Reluctantly, he releases Gladio’s shaft, kissing the glistening cockhead before moving his hands aside and burying his head in Gladio’s groin.

He sucks in a deep breath, drinking in Gladio’s musk loud so that Gladio can _hear_ it, then licks from the base to the tip. At the last instant, he musters up enough courage to look up at Gladio and whimpers at the look he gets. Gladio’s biting his lower lip, staring down at Noctis like he’s prey. It’s like when they train, but worse. Better. All the blood is leaving Noctis’s brain and rushing to his teeny cock, but apparently it’s not so teeny that it doesn’t make him stupid.

“Keep going,” orders Gladio, voice pitched in a low growl.

Noctis mouth falls open and Gladio shifts a little to guide his cockhead between Noctis’s lips. He knows just how much he can take now before his gag reflex kicks in, so he goes to work, bobbing his head and sucking at the tip every chance he gets. Whenever Gladio groans, it goes straight to Noctis’s little cock and he wants so bad to stick his hands in his pants and rub himself while Gladio fucks his mouth, but then Gladio might _see _and notice that Noctis’ masturbates like a freaking girl.__

The image -- of Gladio laughing at him in derision -- dampens Noctis’s arousal. Suddenly, he realizes that his knees hurt and his jaw aches, and that there’s a trickle of drool dribbling down his chin. Gladio’s moans start sounding more frustrated than anything, and Noctis is sure that he’s no good at this at all. Any of the girls in porn would’ve made their guys come already. Gladio hasn’t praised him in like a whole _minute_ ; he’s probably getting impatient.

Well, fuck him.

Noctis grabs Gladio’s wrist and pushes his out off, letting Gladio’s cock slip out of his mouth as he starts to get up.

“Noct -- ”

He warps to the side when Gladio’s hand falls on his neck and tries to push him down, then appears less than a foot away, panting as he glares down and Gladio.

“What. The fuck.” Gladio heaves.

Even with a tank-top and naked from the waist down, he looks damned impressive. His cock hangs between his legs, glistening with Noctis’s spit and flushed red. Despite everything, Noctis fights an urge to fall back on his knees and crawl between his thighs again.

“Noct, if this is you being a bitch again, I swear. . .” Gladio trails off and leans on his elbows, looking up at the ceiling as if in prayer.

“It’s not working.”

“What?” Gladio glares at him.

“I can’t make you c-come,” says Noctis, squirming, but refusing to look away from Gladio.

“Noctis. Noct.” Gladio takes a deep breath, same as he does during training when Noctis is being particularly lazy. “You’ve been sucking me for like three minutes. I need a little more. Time.”

“I wouldn’t.” In fact, Noctis would probably blow his little load if Gladio so much as licked his lips in the vicinity of his groin.

Gladio doesn’t even have words for that, just a frustrated growl before wrapping a hand around his still-hard dick. Noctis starts taking a step forward, faltering only when Gladio smirks at him. He wants to cry all of a sudden, like a kid who’s lunch has been stolen at school. He worked for that hard-on; it’s _his_ and now Gladio’s gonna just. . . end it.

“You don’t have to do anything, Noct. Just let me look at you.”

Well, it’s not like Noctis can become invisible. He _could_ just walk out the room, but then he wouldn’t get to see Gladio’s dick spurt come all over and he _so_ wants to know if it’ll make more come than Noctis’s does the handful of times he can’t help himself and just humps a towel until release hits him like a whip. 

“Fuck, I wanted to come on your face so bad,” says Gladio between short, gaspy breaths. “Will you come here and let me kiss you, at least?”

But then he wouldn’t get to see Gladio’s hand tugging on his dick and passing his thumb over the naked head with every stroke. If he doesn’t get to _make_ Gladio come, then he at least wants to _see_ it. 

“Come on, Noct, c'mere and let me _touch_ you.”

Noctis almost wants Gladio to force him to his knees, so he takes a couple of steps forward and bends down, his heart pounding as Gladio’s hand goes for his neck again. But he doesn’t try to force Noctis to his knees and just rubs his thumb over Noctis’s bottom lip. Instinctively, Noctis tries to suck the thumb into his mouth.

“Fucking cocktease,” Gladio says, but it’s breathless and amused, so Noctis smiles and places his hand over the one Gladio’s got wrapped around his own dick.

Gladio _still_ doesn’t push Noctis down and instead only takes his thumb out of Noctis’s mouth and grabs his neck to pull him onto the bed. Noctis’s fears that Gladio’s gonna try and get on top of him and pull his pants down (so they can rut against each, and fuck wouldn’t that feel so _good_ ), but Gladio just lies beside him and goes for a kiss. And Noctis’s mouth was just wrapped around someone’s dick like a minute ago, which is a dumb thought, but it paralyzes Noctis long enough for Gladio to shove his tongue between Noctis’s teeth. Kissing isn’t covered much in porn so Noctis doesn’t know what to do that wouldn’t look and sound obviously fake. He freezes, making Gladio pause and lift his head.

“Noct, what’s wrong?”

Noctis has maneuvered his hand around Gladio’s dick, so yes, it’s still hard as fuck, but Gladio’s gazing at him with wide, concerned eyes.

“We can stop if you want,” he says. “I won’t be mad, promise.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” admits Noctis. “It looks harder than blow jobs.”

Gladio sighs, laying his forehead on Noctis’s. “You’ve never given a blowjob before either.”

“Was I _that_ bad?” Probably, since Gladio had to practically walk him through it.

“Noct, you were _amazing_ , but not because you had any idea what you were doing.”

“Huh?”

“Not that you need to be getting airs,” adds Gladio, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s someone sucking your dick. How could it feel anything less than amazing?”

“I could have _bitten_ you,” says Noctis, squeezing Gladio’s cock. Though not too hard, because he doubts Gladio wouldn’t strangle him if he went there.

But Gladio doesn’t look threatened at all. In fact, his hips surge forward, like he wants to hump Noctis’s hand. Noctis knows better than to squeeze, but he takes the movement for encouragement and slides his hand up Gladio’s shaft and passes his thumb over the slick head of Gladio’s cock. Gladio makes a little whimpery noise that Noctis would never have dreamed to get out of him.

“Guess I’m amazing at this too,” says Noctis, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, shut it,” says, Gladio, ruining the reprimand with a breathy sigh at the end. “What guy over twelve isn’t good at handjobs?”

That stops Noctis in his tracks. _He_ isn’t good at handjobs because his own dick is not long enough to make the act possible, never mind pleasurable. He doesn’t even have a handful down there.

“Fuck it, Noct.” Finally, Gladio’s at the end of his rope. “It can’t be that bad; let me see - ”

Gladio slides his hand over Noctis’s belly, aiming for his belt, and Noctis warps away from him again, as far as he can in the cramped caravan.

“Damn it!” Gladio punches the pillow in besides him. “We had a deal.”

“No, we didn’t.” Noctis breathes hard, like he’s just finished a fight against a nasty demon that caught him unawares. “I said something dumb and you offered to show me your dick.”

“Bullshit.” Gladio gets off the bed, hard dick swinging, and walks towards Noctis. “You knew exactly what I meant, and you didn’t argue with me about it.” Soon, Noctis is between the wall and Gladio’s chest, gaze flitting from Gladio’s scowling face to his hard cock. “I don’t like people who don’t honor their word, Your Highness.”

All Noctis has for that is scowl that probably comes out looking like a petulant pout. He did agree, after all, but now that Gladio’s collecting, he wishes he hadn’t talked himself out of the blow job. Maybe Gladio would have forgotten the bargain if he’d gotten off.

“Stop being a coward, Noctis,” says Gladio. “You’re alive, aren’t you? Whatever you got down there _works_ , so get over yourself and _show_ me.”

A hundred arguments die in Noctis’s mouth, perhaps because something in him is aching to get the big secret out there, even if it’s with someone utterly dedicated to him. Hoping that Gladio can’t appreciate the fine tremor of his hands, Noctis reaches for his belt. He squeezes his eyes shut as he pushes his pants - underwear and all - down, but he can’t _not_ look at Gladio while this happens. Next time Gladio inhales, it’s loud enough to slap Noctis, who braces himself for laughter and disgust that never come.

“Well,” says Gladio, biting his lip, “that’s actually small enough to make a big deal of.”

Noctis lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding, then slides his pants lower, so they fall and pool around his feet.

“Can I touch it?” asks Gladio.

Noctis asked that before so it’s only fair, but not really because Gladio’s dick is _huge_ and his is a short stump that doesn’t even let him pee standing up. He _hates_ touching it, holds out for as long as he can and then frantically rubs himself like a horny girl in the dead hours of the morning, when he’s so hard up he can hardly _think_.

“Noct?”

He jerks his head in a quick nod, not daring to look at Gladio’s expression. Chances that Gladio will get cock-hungry and blow him are nonexistent, but the image of it - of Gladio slobbering over his stump - still make him shiver as Gladio slides his massive hand down Noctis’s belly and pets the dark hair over his groin.

“Isn’t it just cute as a button?”

That’s close to the farthest thing a man wants to hear about his cock, but Noctis had been bracing himself for laughter, and besides, Gladio slides his thumb over it as he says it, then pulls at Noctis’ foreskin to reveal the pink, flushed head. Which is most of it, really. And Noctis shudders as though electrocuted.

“Now, there’s a reaction,” says Gladio, slipping an around Noctis’s thighs and picking him up like he’s air. “Let’s see what else I can make you do.” He deposits Noctis on the bed and reaches for Noctis’s pants, pulling them down past his ankles then spreading Noctis’s legs to make a spot for himself between them. “Take off your shirt.”

Noctis is up for anything that might distract Gladio from his groin, so he lifts himself up and pulls his shirt over his head. He wants to ask Gladio to do the same with his tank top, but words are beyond him.

“There you go Noct; now you’re all laid out for me like a banquet,” says Gladio, tweaking Noctis’s nipple lightly.

Noctis lets out a surprised whimper as a shiver runs through him. He ignores his nipples usually, and any other part of his traitorous body that might give his teeny cock ideas. 

“It’s good I can’t get you shirtless or I’d have to beat off slobbering fools with a stick.”

“Shuddup,” Noctis forces out finally. “I’m scrawny.” Not like Gladio, who commands attention every time he enters a room, even when clad in heavy jacket.

“You’re toned and lithe,” says Gladio. “And your face is stupid pretty. I hate the looks you get as it is.”

Noctis would complain about being cockblocked, but Gladio chooses that moment to caress his inner thigh. 

“Show me how you get yourself off, Noct. Would it hurt if I kissed you there?”

How the hell would Noctis know? He’s long suspected that he’s more sensitive than other guys, and the thought of Gladio putting his mouth around a dick that can’t even fill up a hand makes him queasy. So he turns his face to the side and focuses on the wallpaper cheap floral print as he reaches down to show Gladio how he rubs the palm of his hand against his dick.

“Like this,” he forces out between gritted teeth, hips undulating against his hand. “I just rub until I. . .”

Gladio doesn’t seem to mind that he trails off. He pushes Noctis hand away and starts rubbing, holding Noctis’s hips in place with his other hand. It’s worse-better with someone else doing it for him, holding him down so he can’t even hump back, and he’s letting out little whimpers within moments. All his anxieties drown under the onslaught, expiring after Gladio starts fondling his balls. 

“Gladio, I’m gonna - ” He can’t even get the warning out before his muscles seize and he spurts all over Gladio’s hand.

“Wow.”

Shit, here it comes. Noctis is pretty sure he’s gonna vomit.

“That’s amazing,” breathes Gladio. 

Try as he might, Noctis can’t detect even a hint of disgust.

“How long until you can go again?” Gladio tries to rub him more, but even though it’s slick with Noctis’s come now and glides much smoother, he’s too sensitive right after he comes. He whines and tries to squirm away. “Too much, too soon? That’s okay; we’ll figure it out later.”

“Later?” Noctis is coming down from the little high, so he might have imagined that.

“Yeah, later,” says Gladio, prompting Noctis to look and catch him wrapping his finger around his long, thick shaft. “I’m gonna see how you work, Noct. Make you come until you’re dry and you’re sure you can’t take it, then I’m gonna fuck you to prove you can. You’d like that, Noct? You ever play with your ass; see if it’s as sensitive as your little cock?”

Noctis hasn’t, not really, but he’d let Gladio do it. He’d let Gladio do almost anything. Anything. He goes down to touch himself, see if he can take it already, and it feels nice to rub his thumb over his foreskin to pull it back a little. Gladio slips closer, rubs the tip of his hard cock over Noctis, the touch light but somehow more intense than anything they’ve done so far. It makes Noctis arch to get closer, and Gladio groans and pulls harder at his own dick. Then Gladio is coming, spurting strips of white fluid over Noctis’s groin and chest, then slumping forward to lie half-on top of Noctis.

“That shouldn’t’ve been so hard,” mumbles Gladio, gathering Noctis closer to him. 

Noctis swallows. “You gonna do all those things you said?” He’s ready to get worked up and wrecked again.

“Of course,” says Gladio. “Give me a ‘sec and we can move to the shower.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [chocolatetigerposts](http://chocolatetigerposts.tumblr.com/) at tumblr.


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